Recommendations
by Cariad
Summary: Booth wants some help choosing something to read on vacation, but ends up with a dinner invitation from Bones instead
1. Driving home

**Disclaimer:** Bones and all its lovely characters belong to someone else. 

**What's this one all about:** Holiday reading recommendations - I thought it had some scope for some nice interaction. Have decided to try it out with a couple of short-ish chapters to work in Temperance and Seeley's pov. More to follow...

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The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the trees as Special Agent Seeley Booth threaded his car through the traffic. It was the end of a boring week in work. He'd been stuck in the office catching up on paperwork and clearing a vast backlog of e-mail. No chasing desperate criminals; no suspects to grill; no body parts to identify. He shrugged internally, telling himself that this was a good thing, it meant nothing awful had happened. The streets were safe.

He wondered how the squints' week had gone, without one of his decomposing bodies to deal with. He smiled slightly, undoubtedly they would have more than enough bones of their own to keep going. Oh yes, Dr Brennan would probably have enjoyed the peace to get on with her real work - no desperate FBI case to mess up cataloguing bits of cavemen. Booth didn't understand why he felt sad when he thought of Temperance working away with no reason to think of him.

The traffic was getting worse, nose to tail as far as he could see. He braked hard, as the cars in front slowed again. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and flipped the radio to traffic news. Teriffic, jammed all the way home. Now he remembered why henever left the FBI's downtown office at this time. It wasn't just that he usually worked on much later. The traffic was crawling forward again. He hated this type of driving, stop - start, you had to keep concentrating or you'd end up shunting the vehicle in front, but it was so tedious.

He felt his mind wandering again. His vaction to Jamaica was only a week away. He'd have to call in to see the squints before he went, to say hi. He stared straight ahead, why had he thought that? There wasn't any reason to make a special call on work colleagues. He shoved the thought away, and the vague sense of unease he'd felt for the last two days when he'd realised that there was no reason to meet Temperance for a drink this evening.

He ground his teeth in frustration as the cars had stopped again. Suddenly, up ahead he saw a large bookstore and inspiration struck. Holiday reading! He could pull in, buy something to read while relaxing by the pool. By the time he'd finished the traffic would have disapated and wouldn't be home much later. Much better then getting motion sickness from stop start traffic and it would provide a distraction from thinking.. about things...

It seemed to take forever to cover the short distance to the bookstore, but eventually he made it and turned off into side street and on into the parking lot. There were still quite a few cars there and he could see the large sign by the door that showed the store would be open until 8. Plenty of time to pick something good to read he thought, as he got out of the car and clicked the automatic lock button on his key fob.

Booth strode across the lot and waited for the automatic door to open. He felt a blast of air conditioning and took his sunglasses off as his eyes adjusted to being out the bright sunshine. The store was huge. He looked at the row upon row of shelves and felt at a loss; he was hopeless at choosing books. Once he knew he liked an author he was fine, he would read absolutely everything they wrote, but this made him unadventurous in finding new authors to try. Ugh, where to start. He started to wander around. Not really taking in which section he was walking to, automatically picking a book out and flicking to the back cover and the photo of its beautiful author unware of the smile that spread across his face as he looked. Then, with a jolt, he realised that he was holding Temperance's latest novel and staring at her picture. He shut the book with a snap and shoved it back on the shelf. Do not go there, he thought, I mean I've read all her books anyway...

He turned on his heel, and then inspiration struck. He could get some recommendations! He knew he liked what Temperance wrote. He could call her and ask what she liked to read - there was bound to be something in her list he'd like, if he enjoyed her books. Why hadn't he thought of it earlier? He opened his phone and found 'Bones' in his directory. Hmm... he really ought to rename the entry he thought, it was a bit disrespectful. He hit the call button and listened to the tone, waiting.

(TBC)


	2. Project completed

Thanks for the reviews - they're always appreciated.

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Dr Temperance Brennan clicked 'save' on a report setting out the results of a detailed investigation into one of the best preserved Olmec sites ever discovered. The Jeffersonian's contribution had been a painstaking analysis of the remains of two Olmec people who had been brutally killed. Wresting any sense from the ancient fragments had been incredibly difficult, but Temperance felt satisfied that they had learnt all they could. When pooled with the information the archaeologists would get from the materials at the site in Mexico, she was confident that their understanding of this ancient people would be substantially increased.

Temperance circled her head, trying to work out the knots that had formed while being hunched over the keyboard for a day. She glanced at her watch and realised she could actually leave at a normal time. She turned off her computer and reflected that, all in all, it was a pretty good week's work. The final report on the Olmec remains had been hanging over her for the last month, but the FBI's demands on her time had meant there hadn't been chance to get it done.

Temperance picked up her coffee mug and made her way to the kitchen, wondering if she should call into Wong Foos on her way home and catch Booth? She stopped suddenly wondering why she would want to go out. She wasn't that keen on bars and Booth normally had to force to go out for their regular drink. Her brow creased at that thought, when had their evenings out become regular? They hadn't spoken since Tuesday the previous week; with no corpses materialising there was no reason for Booth to talk to her. She realised that she had been waiting for him to call and cajole her into coming out for drink, but he hadn't. Disappointment flooded her. He obviously had lots of other things to do, why would they spend time together if it wasn't related to a case? Temperance didn't understand the burning sensation at the back of her eyes as she realised that Booth obviously just saw her as a problem solving tool.

She walked unseeingly into the kitchen and washed her mug. In her mind's eye she pictured Booth: the dark eyes that lit up as he smiled at her; the constant contradiction of a personality - sarcastic, instinctive; the strip of toned, tanned flesh above his jeans that she'd glimpsed as he pulled on his coat and his t-shirt rode up. She grasped the edge of the sink and took a breath. This was not good. She was fixating on Booth's, er, attributes.

This week apart was obviously a good thing, and why was she thinking about leaving on time? Plenty of time today to start a new project in the office. The Jeffersonian had stacks of things she could look into. Stacks of fascinating remains that would keep her occupied and prevent her from wondering what Booth was doing.

She strode back to her office and reached out to switch the computer back on, but her hand hesitated as her mobile phone began to ring.

(TBC)


	3. The call

Hope this works - I hate writing dialogue. _Note to self - do not write a story based around a phone conversation again!_

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"Hello?" Temperance said answering her phone as she sat by her desk. 

"Hey," a voice whispered on the other end.

A very familiar voice, Temperance thought as she felt her heart begin to pound. "Hey yourself. Why are you whisphering?" Temperance felt a stab of disappointment, "Is this about a case?"

"What? No, I'm in a bookstore." Booth answered, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face as he heard her voice.

"Then why the whispering?" Temperance repeated, her face reflecting her confusion.

"I don't want to disturb people." Booth replied.

"It's a bookstore right?" Temperance queried starting to spin her revolving chair through 30 degrees.

"Yes." Booth said shortly.

"Not a library?"

"No."

"Then I think you can probably talk at something approaching normal volume. I can barely make out what you're saying!" Temperance commented.

"Fine. This better? One two; one two, testing!" Booth spoke normally. How was it possible that they could start arguing before they had even said hello? Had he really wanted to speak to her?

"Perfect."

Silence.

"Booth, you called me... Did you want something? Or can I get back to work?" Temperance was still confused. The 'one two' business hadn't helped.

"Oh, yeah... well...I er... wanted your help. Well, advice I guess..." Booth trailed off, horrified to realise he was starting to blush. Jesus, he felt like he was 13 again, asking his first proper crush on a date. Focus, and breathing wouldn't go amiss. It's just Bones, you work with her all the time. Just not for a week.

"And?" Came the query down the line, "I'm all yours." Temperance's breath hitched as she realised what she had just said. She opened her mouth to clarify, but Booth got in first.

"I need a book." he stated.

"A book?"

"Uh-huh." Booth was nodding in agreement as he answered.

"Umm... okay. Still not seeing where I come in Booth." Temperance was leaning right back into her seat and still revolving it slowly round.

"You write books." _Isn't it obvious_ Booth thought?

"What? The FBI's lousy pay means you can't buy one of my books?" Temperance was definitely not getting this conversation. Booth had to be the least logical person she had ever met.

"No! I don't want one of your books!" Booth answered shortly, feeling affronted. As if he'd ask for a freebie! It took a couple of seconds to register the frosty silence on the other end of the line.

"I see. Well, now we've got it clear that you don't like my books maybe I can get back to work!" Anger and hurt warred for supremacy in Temperance's mind.

Booth buried his face in his free hand shaking his head. Why did he always manage to say the wrong thing with her? _Aside from the fact that he did it on purpose half the time because she looked even more beautiful when she was irritated._ He grimaced, this was not the time, so not the time for that thought!

"No, I do. Like your books I mean. That's why I'm calling you." Booth said urgently.

"Booth, you - are - not - making - any - sense." Anger and hurt were dissipating, but confusion was certainly making a comeback Temperance decided.

"Temperance, I've read all your books. They're great, but I need something new to read on holiday. I thought you could give me some recommendations." Silence. "You know, as I like what you write. I figured I'd probably like the stuff that you read."

Temperance was blushing, she could feel the warmth spreading through her whole body. Booth liked her books. He wasn't calling about work. Happy, happy thoughts, Temperance's next words were out before her internal censor even registered them, "Oh, right. Okay... Listen, don't buy anything from the store. Come round for dinner tonight and you can take your pick. My house is pretty much wall to wall books." Realisation dawned, _did I just say that_?

Silence.

"Unless you're busy of course" Temperance hurried on trying to keep the disappointment at Booth's obvious lack of interest out of her voice.

"No, no dinner'd be great. If it's not an inconvenience...?" Booth cut in quickly, forcing himself to speak while his mind whirled.

"No problem at all. It'll be good to..." _See you _Temperance wanted to say, but gritted the words behind her teeth, "Would 8 be okay? You know how to find my place?"

"Uh-huh. Eight'd be great. See you then, and thanks Temperance."

"See you later, Seeley."

They both pressed 'end call' and stared into space with wide-eyed smiles.

(TBC)


	4. Getting ready

Thanks for all the reviews. I really appreciate them. This story is taking on a life of its own, it was never intended to go beyond the phonecall. Hope you like this chapter, probably not as much fun as the previous ones, but as dinner is now on the cards I'm afraid I felt that Tessa needed to be taken out (not literally obviously)... Please r&r...

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Booth snapped his phone shut and dropped it into his jacket pocket. He let out a slow breath; that had been some conversation. He ruthlessly suppressed the urge to clench his fist and shout 'yes!' _Just play it cool_, he thought, _it's just dinner... between friends... _He realised that a few people were staring at him, he wasn't sure if it was because he'd been entertaining them with his phone call in the middle of the store or because of the nervous smile he knew was plastered on his face.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, and then glanced at his watch, 17:45 - time to leave if he was going to get home, changed and be on time for dinner. As he walked towards the exit, hands in his pockets, he started to click the button on the top of his pen unconsciously. The same mantra repeating over and over in his head:_ do not over-analyse; it's just a meal; between friends; like many other Fridays over the last couple of months_. He ignored the part of his mind that told him that the lack of a case together made this event decidedly different; and he certainly wasn't going to think about the fact that they had always met on neutral territory before, at a bar or a restaurant, never at one of their homes.

As he stepped outside, he put his shades on and ambled towards the car. The sun was glinting off the paintwork and he could see the smudges from a week of dusty city driving. Well, that took care of Saturday morning anyway. The FBI liked its agents to present a certain image, a clean car, along with a suit and tie was part of the deal.

He swung onto the car seat and squinted at the traffic. Even in the 15 minutes or so he'd spent in the store it seemed to have got a bit quieter. It was still a frustratingly slow journey home though, especially as Booth was looking at his watch every couple of minutes. By the time he pulled into his own street it was near enough half past six. He parked on his driveway and was out of the car in seconds. It took him a moment to find his keys, but he was soon standing in his cool, dimly lit entranceway dumping a pile of mail onto a table. He looked at his watch again - twenty five to seven.

He walked into the living room and automatically turned on the TV to the news channel. As he hung his coat and jacket behind the door, he listened to the headlines and reflected that working for the FBI had turned him into a news junkie - 24 hour news was like a giant, globally accessible early early warning system. He turned the TV off again, wondering if Temperance was a news addict.

He felt a smile tugging at his lips again as he thought about dinner and wondered what she was going to cook. Her invitation had sounded like a spur of the moment kind of thing, but surely she had to have planned it? He found it difficult to imagine Temperance inviting someone round for a meal the same day without having thought about what she was going to cook. He reprimanded himself internally, what did he know! Dr Brennan had proved that she could surpise him enough times in the past - like with Charlie the puppy-dog overnight guy - just the memory of her description of 'his great thighs' set his teeth on edge.

He walked towards the stairs and saw he had two messages on his answerphone. He stopped and pressed play. _"Congratulations you've won a holiday in the Bahamas. Just press 0 and..."_ Booth jabbed the delete button. The answering machine beeped and then a familiar voice started to speak, Booth sighed and leant against the wall listening.

_"Seely, it's me, I got your messages. Look, I was wondering if I could call round on Sunday and collect the rest of my things? There are a few things I need... and well... maybe we could talk?" _The voice trailed off and then spoke more decisively. _"Or not, if you prefer, but I do need my things. I assume that you are not away with work this weekend. Call me." _

Booth shook his head. He and Tessa had officially split a couple of weeks ago although they had only seen each other twice the month before that. He had expected it to be painful, as they had been together for a while, but if he was honest all he really felt was relief that it was over.

He looked at the two cardboard boxes by his hall table. A pair of gloves and a couple of packs of photos poked over the side. The remaining evidence of Tessa's presence in his life, boxed and ready to go. He'd offered to drop the boxes off a couple of times and was getting fed up of looking at them. Well, it looked like Tessa had finally got the hint.

He stared at the phone again, surprised at the feeling of resentment that Tessa's message had roused in him. He thought for a moment and realised that he was angry that his past was interrupting an evening when he wanted to be thinking about the future. He blinked and decided he was getting ahead of himself again, but one thing was for damn sure, he wasn't ringing Tessa back tonight.

He did call a cab company and booked a ride for just after half past seven.

He took the stairs two at a time and closed the blinds in his room before pulling off his suit and leaving it lying on the bed. His ensuite was one of his favourite features of the house, it was done out in cool blues and whites and had an amazing frosted glass panel in the sloping roof above the shower. He dumped his crisp white shirt in the washing basket and started to lather up for a shave. He somehow managed to avoid nicking his skin and looking critically in the mirror he thought he'd got rid of most of his stubble. His underwear joined his shirt in the basket and he padded into the shower. He could feel the warm water washing the grime of the day away and he started to relax. As he washed the soap off he looked critically at his body, he was feeling pretty fit, but a few more loops around the park on his lunch time runs wouldn't go amiss. He barely registered the scars that across his taut stomach and the indentations on his shoulder, one courtesy of his army career and the other from a disastrous FBI operation.

He was soon standing drying off his hair with a vigorous rub of the towel and working out what to wear. Last minute dinner was not formal, so jeans? But he needed to look as though he'd made an effort, so a smartish pair? He pulled on a pair of low slung black jeans and pulled fitted black t-shirt from the drawer. He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his brown leather jacket. He hesitated in the doorway and then decided that aftershave was in order. He wondered if Temperance would appreciate that the 30 seconds he'd spent actually thinking about what to wear was something of a record - he was more of a 'Grab at random. Is it clean? Then it's fine' kind of guy.

The clock in the kitchen told him that he had half an hour to kill before the cab came. He started sorting through his mail while drumming his fingers absently on the kitchen table. He wondered about having a beer while he waited, but decided he against it. To his relief to the cab was actually on time and he picked up his keys, wallet and phone and was out the door almost as soon as it parked outside.

He gave the driver directions to Temperance's house and stared idly out the window. As they drove along, he watched people walking their dogs, kids riding their bikes and a couple of stores shutting up shop for the evening. Suddenly Booth gripped the armrest - he hadn't brought a bottle of wine, and worse, was he supposed to bring flowers? He tapped his knuckle against his teeth as he thought. He knew there was a nice store at the end of Temperance's street, but would they still be open? Should he get the cab to stop at the next store he saw? He kept an eye out, but every store they went past seemed to be closed. He couldn't believe his bad luck.

They were already in Temperance's neighbourhood, when he saw a little shop with a display of flowers. He waved at the driver to stop and leapt out asking him to wait. He stared at the flowers - should he get some? Would it seem too intimate? But surely it would be rude to turn up with only a bottle of wine? But what to get? He had no idea what flowers she liked. What if she suffered from hay-fever? Booth was unaware of the elderly sales assistant eying him with amused smile.

"Can I help you sir?" she said.

Booth jumped as she spoke, "Uh, I guess. I need some flowers."

"Indeed. May I ask what the occasion is?"

Booth's eyes widened, "Umm, it's dinner. With a friend. Well a work colleague, who's a friend..." he trailed off.

The assistant nodded reassuringly, in her line of work tact and diplomacy were as important as the ability to hand-tie a bouquet in two minutes. Not many customers would actually buy something if you laughed at their first date nerves, "Perhaps these tulips and freesias, sir? They're very pretty, but not too gaudy, and I wouldn't recommend roses for an informal dinner date."

Booth looked at the pretty pastel blooms and nodded. "Great, they'll be fine." He didn't add that in his view flowers were flowers. The assistant wrapped them in green tissue paper and tied them with raffia. Booth paidand gathered them up awkwardly. The assistant shook her head as he left, wondering why such a handsome young man was looking quite so nervous. Hopefully his young lady would appreciate the gift.

Booth got back in the cab and in another five minutes he was at the end of Temperance's road, right outside the store he remembered. He paid the driver and got out waggling the flowers from side to side. The store had a good selection of wines, including some chilling in a fridge. Booth picked out a dry white and after paying started to walk slowly towards Temperance's door.

Her doorstep was neat with lavenders plants in pots on either side. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the fact that his heart was racing as he rung the door bell.

(TBC)


	5. At my house in two hours!

Thank you for the reviews - sorry but there's another chapter to be had before we get to dinner...

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Temperance sat next to her desk staring sightlessly into space as her chair's spin gradually slowed down. Her grip on the armrests tightened as her brain tried to process the fact that she had just invited Booth over for dinner - in just over two hours. 

"Sweetie. I'm off home now," Angela's voice drifted in from outside her office; Temperance just stared dumbly.

"Tempe? Are you there?" Angela's head poked around the door and her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the sight of her friend spinning slowly around in her chair, looking rigid with shock. She crossed the room quickly, stopped the spinning chair and perched on the edge of the desk looking at Temperance in concern. "Honey, what's the matter? Are you okay?"

Temperance stirred slightly and looked at Angela's worried face. Her mind was still on a go-slow and she heard herself say, "I just invited Booth to dinner. At my place. Tonight." She jumped at Angela's squeal of delight.

"Are you serious? That's great! I knew you two would get it together..." Temperance watched with a slightly detached sense of alarm as Angela bounced on the desk in excitement, "A romantic dinner for two. Why didn't you tell me you had this planned!"

At the words 'romantic dinner' the nice, safe, detached feeling Temperance had enjoyed since the end of her phone conversation abruptly shattered. Her hand went to her mouth and her eyes went wide. Suddenly her words tumbled out, "We're not like that. It's just a meal between co-workers," she could see Angela's expression was disbelieving, "And it wasn't planned, I just sort of asked. What I am going to do? He's coming over at eight! I should call back and cancel, shouldn't I?"

"Sweetie calm down. Dinner between _friends_ is perfectly normal." Angela could see that Temperance was about to protest, "And don't give me that about cancelling, you wouldn't have asked if you didn't want to see him." She caught Temperance's hands and hauled her to her feet, "Come on Tempe - you need to get going." Angela picked up Temperance's phone and dropped it in her bag and then handed the bag over, giving her friend a push towards the door.

Temperance opened her mouth to speak, but Angela cut in, "No, you are going home right now. Don't worry about food. Just think simple, get some tapas and do that chicken casserole thing you made when I came over a while ago. And buy a cake." Angela's eyes glinted, "Or better yet some strawberries and ice-cream. You have a sexy FBI agent all to yourself tonight and you will damn well enjoy it."

Angela's words brought Booth startlingly alive in Temperance's mind. She could see him standing in her kitchen. He'd lean against the table and smile at her. His dark eyes would have that same intensity they always did when he looked at her. And she'd feel that familiar thrill. Only this time it would be different. They would be together because they had chosen to spend time in each other's company. Anything could happen - and what was more, Temperance realised that she wanted it to.

Temperance stopped dead in her tracks, vaguely surprised to find that Angela had already manoeuvred her out of the lab and into the main part of the building. She turned and looked directly at her best friend frowning intently as she did so, "I... don't know..." she halted uncertainly.

Angela gave Tempe an encouraging smile, shaking her head slightly, "It doesn't matter. Don't think - just see what happens. And relax."

Temperance nodded slowly and then more vigorously. She could do this. She wasn't going to analyse, she was going to go with her instincts. At that decision, she moved decisively towards the exit briefly acknowledging Angela's thumbs up and huge grin.

Outside the cool confines of the Jeffersonian, the sun was bright and warm. Temperance screwed up her eyes in surprise. She hadn't expected it to still be so light - _that's what comes of leaving at 10:00 pm every night._

Her car, a sleek sliver convertible that had been a gift from her publisher, was parked close the exit. She looked at the door carefully as she opened it. She was convinced that you could still see a hint of the massive dent which someone had caused after she had started to park the car straight, as instructed by Booth. She got in and rested her forearms on the wheel, glancing at her watch. It was nearly six, it would only take twenty minutes or so to get home even at this time of day. She knew a great deli where she could pick up most of the food she needed. Her place was pretty tidy, so there wouldn't be much cleaning up to do. But she'd need to prepare their meal before hitting the shower. She bit her lip, it was going to be tough to be ready by eight. She hesitated for a moment longer before turning the ignition on and pulling smoothly out of the parking space.

Temperance droved through the busy early evening streets towards her house. She got a flutter in her stomach every time she thought about Booth, so she decided to concentrate on the details. First stop, her local deli. As usual it was almost impossible to park outside, but she managed to squeeze into a spot just down the road. She loaded up on olives, cheese, cold meats and freshly baked bread. She also picked out the ingredients for her casserole. She knew she had a couple of good bottles of wine and some beer at home, so didn't need to get those. As she walked past the fruit, she saw a huge punnet of fresh, ripe strawberries. She hesitated for a moment and then shoved them in her basket. The queue to pay was quite short, but for once the sales assistant's friendly conversation with regulars irritated. It was only quarter of an hour before she was back at her car, but she felt as though she had been in the shop for hours.

She drove the rest of the way home, drumming her fingers on the wheel. She parked, gathered her shopping up and walked across the road to her front door, her keys between her teeth. Juggling the bags she managed to unlock the door and push it open. Her mail was safely caught in a basket that hung under the letterbox; she didn't bother checking it. Instead, she walked straight through to the kitchen and dumped the shopping on the side. After washing her hands she started chopping veg for the casserole. She silently thanked Angela for the suggestion, it was a great recipe but was really easy to prepare. Soon, seasoned chicken pieces were lying in a bed of chopped veg. Temperance poured over the stock, which included a healthy dash of white wine and put in the oven, setting the timer. After peeling some potatoes to go with the main course, she dished the tapas out onto a couple of big plates, covered them and put them in the fridge.

She wandered back through the house sighing slightly, it wasn't as tidy as she had thought it was. She stacked a big pile of books in a corner and retrieved two mugs which had been sat on a table for a couple of days. She straightened out the cushions on the sofa and then walked through to the dining room. It wasn't a room she used all that often, but it had a tiny balcony surrounded neighbouring trees. It was a leafy sanctuary, where she loved to sit. She cleared the dining table of more books and a pile of notes for her latest novel. She started to lay up the table, but then she hesitated looking at the two place mats and two sets of cutlery. The intimacy that they hinted at made her feel odd. As she looked around the room, she also realised that there were quite a few candles. She thought about clearing them away too, but something made her leave them.

Glancing at her watch Temperance was alarmed to find that it was already twenty to eight. Definitely time to freshen up. She walked upstairs, trying to loosen up her shoulders and neck, which were still aching from sitting typing all day. She opened the door to her bedroom, the gauzy white curtains were still drawn and cast a soft diffuse light. She slipped out of her clothes and pulled on a robe before making her way to the bathroom. She wasn't in the shower for long and was soon standing back in her bedroom wondering what she should wear as she dried her hair. She decided to leave her hair loose for a change, rather than tie it back. She didn't bother with much make-up, just a brush of eye shadow, a lick of lip gloss and some tinted moisturiser.

Temperance wasn't into shopping, but she did like nice clothes. She open the doors of the solid maple closet and tilted her head on one side trying to decide. _Jeans?_ _Always acceptable, nice and informal._ She picked up a folded pair and shook them out, then hesitated. _I wear jeans a lot, perhaps I should try a different look tonight? _Her gaze settled on a pretty red skirt. It was soft cord fabric, with three tiers and scattered beading along the bottom edge. She had picked it out in a sale a couple of months ago, but hadn't had the occasion to wear it. She stared a moment longer and then pulled it off the hanger and put it on. It sat low on her hips making a flattering silhouette and as she walked over to the chest of drawers to get a top, the heavy beading caused the skirt to swish out. She picked out a light green camisole top with a fine knit v-neck sweater over the top. From the top of the chest she took one of her favourite necklaces, a twist of red beads with a sliver celtic knot in the middle. As she turned towards the door, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. The outfit looked good. She smiled nervously at her reflection as she wondered what Booth would think. The thought gave her pause. _What if he thought that she had dressed up like this for him?_ She looked down at the floor, trying to ignore the persistent voice telling that if he did, he'd be perfectly correct.

She was about to change her mind and put her jeans back on, when she heard the door bell ring.

(TBC)


	6. It's eight pm

Hello. Thank you to everyone who has read this story, and especially everyone who has reviewed. This is the last chapter of the story, hope you enjoy.

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Booth stood on the doorstep waiting. The seconds ticked by and he considered ringing the doorbell again. Perhaps she was in a part of the house where you couldn't hear the bell? He was about to press the button , when he heard foot steps coming towards the door. He pulled his jacket straight and ran his fingers distractedly through his hair. Then the door opened and he was confronted with a vision - Temperance, with her hair cascading in waves around her face, wearing a skirt and figure hugging top. She was beautiful, and Booth had to resist the urge to tell her so. He swallowed hesitantly, deciding he needed to get a grip on his feelings and unnerved by the uncertain expression in her green eyes.

For a long moment they stared into each other's eyes, neither saying anything. The silence deepened and Temperance forced herself to take control, "Hi Booth, you made here okay then?" _Argh_! _Was it possible to say anything more inane,_ she thought?

Booth grinned, relieved that the awkward silence had been broken, "Come on, ever known me to miss an offer of food?"

She rolled her eyes in acknowledgement and smiled back at him.

"So, you going to ask me in? Or are we eating al fresco on the doorstep?"

"Very funny," Temperance stood to one side and waved him in, "as you asked so _politely, _please come on in!"

Booth stepped into the hallway. It was quite a wide room, but the towering book shelves on either side made the space much narrower. There was little room to swing the door shut with the two of them standing there and as he closed it behind him, he found that they were standing very close together. Booth was acutely aware of her leg brushing against his and he stepped back to stand against the book case. _Real smooth _he thought, and found himself thrusting the flowers towards her.

Temperance stared at the bouquet and then looked up at him.

"They're flowers," Booth explained earnestly, "For you. To say thanks for dinner and the loan of a book..." He offered the flowers again, as she continued to stare at him intently.

Blinking rapidly Temperance took the flowers from him. She buried her face in the blooms and breathed in the delicate scent of freesias. When she looked up again, Booth was horrified to see that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Before he could move to comfort her or apologise, she broke into one of the widest smiles he'd ever seen from her and leant forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"Oh Booth, thank you. How did you know these were my favourite? No-one ever thinks to buy me flowers."

Booth shrugged, "Lucky guess..." His cheek still tingling from where her lips had softly brushed the skin.

Temperance was blushing, so she turned away quickly to lead him into the house. _Great going so far Tempe, she thought. Let's just list the highlights: stared and forgot to ask him in; nearly cried and then kissed him, oh and then, told him that no-one buys me flowers. Terrific. So much for going with instinct!_

Booth trailed behind, offering up a silent prayer of thanks to the lady in the flower shop and still amazed that picking the right bunch of flowers could have quite such a profound effect. As he walked, Booth started to take in his surroundings. He was curious as to what Temperance's home was going to tell him about her. As they walked through a comfortable looking lounge area into the kitchen, Booth was surprised by how much clutter there was. He'd had Temperance down as hyper-organised, hyper-tidy with no room in her life for keepsakes or photos, but actually there were lots of things in each room. He felt a pang at his pre-conceptions, he should have known her better than that by now.

He was deep in thought, so he didn't realise that Temperance had stopped in front of him until he walked into the back of her. He put his hands out to steady himself and they settled comfortably at her waist, her head tucked in underneath his chin. He was shocked by Temperance's sharp intake of breath, until he realised that the chilled bottle of wine he was holding in one hand was pressed against the thin fabric of her top. He let go of her abruptly and stood back.

"Sorry. Wasn't looking were I was going." He apologised, holding the bottle in front of him. "Shall I open this before I do any more damage with it?"

Temperance nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She wanted to feel Booth's hands on her again.

She walked over to the unit next to the sink and pulled out a corkscrew and a pair of scissors. She handed Booth the corkscrew, before picking up a tall, wide-rimmed vase and filling it with water. She deftly untied the raffia and snipped the ends off the stems at an angle before placing them in the vase. She tipped the off cuts into her compost bin and put the tissue paper in the recycling box. She arranged the flowers to her liking and turned to see how Booth was doing with the wine. She felt a jolt of deja vu, Booth was leaning on the table, staring at her, just as she'd imagined when leaving the Jeffersonian earlier. He looked gorgeous, Temperance was stunned by the feelings zapping through her body and she missed what he asked her.

Booth raised an eyebrow quizzically, when Temperance didn't reply to his questions and then said, "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to swig from the bottle, but I thought maybe you'd like to drink out of a glass?"

Temperance's lips formed an 'O' and she pointed to the dresser behind him. He lifted down two heavy, plain crystal glasses and poured the wine. He handed one over to her, and offered a toast, "To Friday evenings."

Temperance smiled, "To Friday evenings." Their glasses clinked together and they took a drink.

"You do know that we have actually just caused the death a sailor, don't you?" Temperance said matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"It's considered bad luck in maritime circles to clink glasses, each echo is the sound of a sailor drowning."

Booth pinched the bridge of this nose and then smiled, "Only you could possibly know something like that. And bring it up after a toast."

"It's true, you know!" She said, putting one hand on her hip.

"I don't doubt it. It's just... well, never mind."

"It's just what?" Temperance demanded.

"Well, it's just... very you." Booth had a hopeful expression on his face, although he doubted that he'd get away with that as an answer.

Temperance's face fell, "What it has some reference to death, therefore 'it's very me'. _Bones_, the expert on dead people. Not so good with the living!"

Booth was taken aback by her vehemence, but he didn't miss the brittle edge to her tone. He'd hurt her, and in that moment he hated himself.

"No, that's not what I meant. It's just an example of how unique you are. Most women, hell most people, would just toast and maybe comment about Fridays being their favourite day. But you've always got a different angle, something new to say, something interesting. It's one of the things I love about you."

At his last sentence, Temperance's looked across at him wide eyed, her lips parted in shock. Booth felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He opened he mouth to speak, when a loud beeping noise made them both jump.

"Time to put the potatoes on," Temperance said quietly after taking a ragged breath. She could see Booth fiddling nervously with his wine glass as she switched on the ring.

She moved to the fridge and lifted out the plates of olives and cheese, "Shall we take these through to the other room? The main course'll be about half an hour."

Booth nodded and took the two plates off her, Temperance stopped to pick up the loaf of bread and an solid wooden board. They walked into the living area and put the places down on a low, heavy slate coffee table. The sun was starting to set and the room was alight with its golden glow. Temperance winced as she pulled a couple of heavy floor cushions towards the table and stretched her arm awkwardly.

"What's the matter?" Booth voice came from just behind her. She could swear she could feel the heat radiating from his body, even through she knew he wasn't touching her.

"I've got a crick in my neck from hunching over my keyboard for all day. I've tried all sorts of stretches, but it won't ease off." She sat down on the cushion and heard a chair being moved behind her. Suddenly she tensed, as she felt Booth's hands rest gently on her shoulders. His hands started to circle slowly, applying gentle pressure. She thought that she should protest, or to move away, but it felt too good. Her eyes drifted shut and she leant back against his knees, as Booth continued to gently massage her shoulders.

His voice whispered from somewhere behind her, "Wow, you've got some knots in these muscles. There may be a bit of discomfort, but it'll be better afterwards, I promise."

"'It's okay. Feels nice." Temperance murmured, conscious only of relaxation and Booth's warm hands.

He gently gathered her red gold hair in his hands, enjoying its weight and silky texture, and lifted it clear of her face so it wouldn't get snagged. Then he cupped the side of her neck and pressed a bit harder with the ball of his thumb.

Temperance winced slightly, and he whispered, "Sorry."

He tried again more gently this time, and gradually worked to relax the muscle and ease out the knot. He felt her relax and was touched that she trusted him enough to let him get this close. He wasn't going to do anything to jeopardise that trust, but the whole time he was aware that his heart was thumping in his chest and that his body was stirring in reaction to their proximity. He kept his hands strictly on her shoulders and fought the urge to kiss the expanse of pale skin revealed by lifting her hair. He slowly eased off the massage until his hands were resting lightly on her shoulders again, waiting for her to move away, but wanting nothing more than to hold onto her forever.

Temperance realised that Booth had stopped, but she didn't want to move. For the first time in as long as she could remember she felt at peace. This was where she was supposed to be. In Booth's arms.

Neither spoke and neither moved. Not for the longest time. Then slowly Temperance reached up with her right hand and linked her fingers through those on Booth's left hand. His right hand slid down her arm and came to rest at her waist. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the fresh floral scent of her shampoo, entranced by the golden highlights the dying sun was lighting in her hair.

Suddenly Temperance needed to see his face. She needed to look into those brown eyes and confront whatever truth they held. She turned in his embrace and knelt up on the cushion, elbows resting on his knees. Her heart racing, she looked into his eyes and was astonished by what she saw.

Booth could only feel two emotions as Temperance turned and gazed into his soul. One was the depth of the love he felt for her, something he hadn't even realised himself until today; and the other was an almost paralysing fear that she didn't feel the same. She saw all this in an instant and felt the tears spilling down her cheeks as she finally acknowledged how much she loved him.

Then he was kissing her tears away and they were touching each other's faces in wonder. Each whispering to the other the truth that they had just acknowledged.

Booth pulled Temperance onto his lap and they kissed as the sun slowly sank below the horizon and the room gradually darkened.

(Fade to black and close.)

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. Sorry they didn't get to have dinner, but I'm afraid my hopeless romantic of a muse got in the way! Still I quite like it. Reviews and comments always welcome. (Time to start a new story I guess.) 


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